The Gray Ship

by Russell Moran

  Both Jack and Ashley knew that they were having a personal conversation on the ship's TV. Ashley thought of saying I love you, but concluded that it would be too adult for this viewing audience.

  "It's a wrap, ladies and gentlemen, another Emmy Award quality show from the TV California," Wally said. "Remember, the early bird gets the wormhole." A collective groan was heard throughout the ship.

  Chapter 93

  Lt. Cmdr. Frank Orzo has been the watch officer at Naval Operations at the Pentagon since midnight. He volunteered to extend his eight-hour watch because he thought it was important to have continuity in the search efforts for the California. Lieutenant Talierco, agreed to extend her watch as well. Orzo had served a lot of time at sea and had stood many watches as Officer of the Deck. Sometimes those watches could be emotionally draining. They were nothing compared to this.

  Orzo and Talierco had been on emotional high alert for over seven hours, and they were beginning to feel it in their muscles. Warrant Officer John Chinnici, who worked in the physical therapy office at the Pentagon, walked into the room. He had orders from the Vice Chief of Naval Operations.

  "Somebody tells me that massages are in order," Chinnici said.

  He first walked behind Orzo and said, "Just relax, Commander." After five minutes of muscle manipulation, Orzo was grateful that this guy was on duty. Chinnici then went to Lieutenant Talierco and did the same.

  At that moment, neither Orzo or Talierco had any more information than anyone else in the world about the USS California. But looking at a display screen and knowing that the California should be there brought on a special kind of stress.

  Orzo went to visit the head. There's something about taking a leak that seems to make things happen. If you're in a restaurant waiting for your dinner to be served, going to the john is a great way to make your meal show up. Orzo realized that he was just playing mind games with himself, but there was little else to do.

  Petty Officer Dirkson, one of the screen watchers said, "This is hopeless. This is fucking hopeless."

  "Secure that talk Sailor," Orzo barked. "I can't control what you people think, but I can goddamn well control what you say in this room. Stow the word 'hopeless.' "

  Everyone in the room knew that Orzo was right. The guy may be a pain in the ass, but he's right. All they can control is their attitude, and it may as well be positive.

  ***

  At the White House, Chief of Staff Bill Daley entered the Oval Office.

  "Mr. President, the Coast Guard Sector Commander wants to know if we should convert the operation from Search and Rescue to just Search.

  "No!" shouted Obama, smacking the desk. "Until further notice this is a Rescue operation. Any change will only be on my direct order."

  Obama knew that, of the many tasks of a Commander in Chief, one of them is to give the people hope.

  ***

  Janet Sampson is at the beginning of a busy day. Besides being choir mistress at church, a job that took a surprising amount of time, she taught a few courses at a local community college. She has classes at 11 A.M., noon, and two more in the afternoon.

  She's glad that she's busy because she is frantic about her husband Rick, the Chaplain of the California. Cancelling classes and sitting in front of the TV is a stupid option, Janet thought. Rick, a man she both loves and looks up to, had long ago convinced her of the power of surrendering to God things that you can't control. "Give it up to God, Rick would say." Still, the tension wrapped around her like a python. She thought of Rick, and of their mutual friend, Ashley Patterson. It's in Ashley's hands, and God's, she thought.

  ***

  The comedy writers for the Leno and the Letterman shows were having a tough morning, and so were the writers at Saturday Night Live. It's an unbreakable rule of comedy that you can't make jokes of a bad situation until the situation is resolved. Not only couldn't they make humor of the California situation, they were wondering if they could write jokes about anything for the upcoming show. Like the days after 9/11, laughter was temporarily on hold.

  ***

  Daytime TV anchors were earning their large salaries. "There's nothing new to report" is not journalism, not entertainment, and not worth watching.

  CNN's Wolf Blitzer was interviewing yet another sea captain on the dangers of life on the ocean.

  Fox News anchor Sheppard Smith interviewed people who had been lost and almost given up for dead. These segments were good, judging by the ratings, because viewers remember those days of waiting for miners to be rescued, a lost skier to be found, or a boy scout who got separated from his camp. All of these segments had one thing in common: hope. It's what the country wants. It is also something the country is starting to lose.

  ***

  Commander Hester, skipper of the Coast Guard Cutter Gallatin, pondered the old saying, "ignorance is bliss." He wished he had some of that, some ignorance. But he didn't, he had knowledge. He is an expert in sonar, and he knows the situation is hopeless. As a military commander he would never say that to anyone in his command, but he didn't have to say it to himself. He had lost hope. He was just going through the motions. He awaits word from Washington, and he knows what the word will be: suspend operations. He just doesn't know when the word will come.

  As the Gallatin passed over the target coordinate one more time, he felt a rumbling, a slight bumping against the ship's hull. The sky started to turn dark, as if a storm cloud suddenly rolled in. The bumping stopped, the sky brightened, and he thought the same thought that went through the minds of the entire crew: "What the hell was that?" He checked all systems. Satellites okay, radar okay, sonar okay. He put in a call to Washington. No problem with communication. He checked his email on his phone. He had just gotten a message. No problem.

  Decades into the future, theoretical physicists would label what the Gallatin had just gone through as "skirting the wormhole." Of course that would be just a label. The actual phenomena would be explained by pages of mathematical formulas.

  The Gallatin had just skirted the wormhole and remained in 2013.

  It was 10:30 a.m. on April 10, 2013.

  The California has been missing just over seven hours.

  Chapter 94

  On August 14, 1861, the California had been executing seemingly endless circles in the ocean off Charleston, South Carolina. They had been doing this nonstop, day and night, since August 7, a full week. The weather was typical of South Carolina at that time of year, hot and humid. The ship's speed was 15 knots, the exact speed she was doing when they hit the wormhole and the Daylight Event four months before.

  Seasickness is a chronic malady; you either have it or you don't. Modern science over the last few years has worked marvels to combat the problem, with patches you stick behind your ear, stuff you put under your tongue, or pills you swallow. But even salty veterans of sea duty on the California were feeling queasy. The turns every three miles were relentless. At 15 knots the ship turned every five minutes. Five minutes of relative steadiness before you had to brace yourself for another turn. Cheese and crackers was the meal of choice in the crew's mess and the wardroom. One sailor, seeing a stew sloshing around in a pot on the chow line, had to make a dash for the nearest head.

  In his morning report over the loudspeaker, Ivan Campbell tried to lighten things up a bit. "The uniform of the day will be service fatigues and barf bags."

  To relieve tension, Captain Patterson ordered that a Rolling Stones song be played over the PA system every 45 minutes. I KNOW, IT'S ONLY ROCK & ROLL, BUT I LIKE IT.

  Would it ever end? Five minutes, lurch to port. Five minutes, lurch to starboard.

  SEAL Petty Officer Pete Campo suspended his martial arts classes until further notice. Instead he organized a line dancing class. Hundreds of sailors discovered that, on Campo's timed command, when they switched their weight from one foot to the other, it compensated for the ship's roll. Petty Officer Simon Planck, the hero of July 2, joined the class. He was healing from his shoul
der wound. Planck thought he may have a future in ballroom dancing, maybe with the lovely young Marine corporal he always lined up next to.

  Ashley took her exercise bag down from its chain. The constant swaying nauseated her.

  ***

  Commander Joseph Perino, the ship's medical officer, attended to Petty Officer Bill Jordan, the man who suffered a severe heart attack in April. His condition has steadily worsened since then. His immune system is compromised, and he suffers one infection after another. He recently contracted pneumonia, and his condition is grave. Having lost over 40 pounds, he barely has the strength to speak. Perino had taken a liking to this poor guy, and the feeling was mutual. They would talk for hours about their mutual love, carpentry.

  At 1355 hours, Jordan drew his last breath. Perino called the Captain to inform her. How sad, thought Ashley. The poor man would never see his old century again, not to mention his family. She called Father Rick. The chaplain's office handled all arrangements for burial at sea.

  ***

  At 1400 hours, 2 p.m., on a bright afternoon, everyone aboard felt it, a soft but distinct bumping below the hull. There wasn't a sudden cheer. It was like watching a basketball game when the guy for your side just threw what could be the game winning shot. You hold your breath, not wanting to distract him.

  Ashley was on the bridge.

  "How's our depth, Jim?" she asked the OOD.

  "Perfect, Captain," said the OOD, smiling, "300 feet. No Ma'am, we're not going aground!"

  Suddenly it was pitch dark. Yes, yes, yes could be heard throughout the ship.

  After two minutes, the darkness returned to daylight.

  The reaction on the California was not a crowd reaction. It was 630 individual reactions. Some screamed. Some prayed. Some cried. Some laughed. Some danced. All reached for their cell phones.

  ***

  Medical Officer Perino stood next to Jordan's body writing a Death Certificate for his friend. Jordan sat up and shouted, "What was that, did we go aground?"

  "Are you okay, Bill?" asked Perino, as he dropped his clip board to the deck, his eyes like saucers.

  "I feel great. What am I doing here?"

  ***

  Any crew member of the Coast Guard Cutter Gallatin who was standing on the starboard side of the ship yelled, in unison, "Holy shit!" as if it were an official greeting.

  There, not 200 yards off the Gallatin's starboard beam, was the USS California. Hester, the Gallatin's Captain, laughed. Then he cried. Then he laughed again. He grabbed his phone and made a call to Naval Operations at the Pentagon, a call he thought he would never make.

  "Frank," he shouted to the NavOps Duty Officer, with whom he had become friends in the last few hours, "the USS California, I say again, the USS fucking California, is steaming 200 yards off our starboard beam!" Orzo ran to Fran Talierco's screen. There was that lovely blip they'd been looking for over the last seven hours.

  Chapter 95

  A story in the world of 24-hour news cycles takes on a life of its own. With live TV newsfeeds available as apps on various computers, smart phones, and tablets, word gets out fast. The debris of the first plane to hit the World Trade Center had not yet hit the ground when the event became THE STORY.

  News stories, like the stories in novels, can break different ways. There can be tragedy, as in a natural disaster or a plane crash. There can be heroism, where an individual or group saves the day. There are courtroom dramas, which, like sporting events, are riveting because we don't know the outcome. The same can be said of political elections. There are scandals, which we love because they're so shocking. Of course, there are war stories. Vietnam, the first "TV war," was a story that was with us for five years, Afghanistan and Iraq for over 10.

  But there is one kind of story that the world loves, a story of someone or some group that's lost and in peril. When stories like that have happy endings, it's as if the world has been given a treat. It's a report that makes you want to clasp your hands, call a friend, fist pump the air, or shed a tear.

  The safe return of the USS California was a story like that, a story like the lost baby who is found safe, or the injured hero who makes it home. It gave the world a break from the daily yada yada of life, and let everyone, if only for a short while, be happy.

  TV news producers, writers and anchors had a special reason to be happy. They were happy because the BIG STORY had now broken down into a zillion small ones to talk about, angles to look at, people to interview, experts to book. The big story of the California was no longer one of finding creative ways to say, "nothing new to report." It had now become, in a matter of hours, a story that could be its own TV series.

  There was an even bigger reason for the news industry to be happy about the California incident. An 11,000 ton warship disappears for seven hours, and nobody knows why, or if they do, they're not saying.

  Now, that's a story.

  Chapter 96

  Ashley realized that there was a detail she forgot to think about. Her last orders were to proceed to Charleston Harbor, South Carolina and participate in the Fort Sumter reenactment ceremonies on April 12, two days from now, now being the year 2013.

  Ashley called Naval Operations at the Pentagon. Duty Officer Orzo answered the phone. "Naval Operations, Lieutenant Commander Orzo speaking."

  "This is Captain Patterson of the California. How are you this afternoon, Commander?"

  Orzo's last few stressful hours were taking their toll on his nerves.

  "Holy shit!" said Orzo. "Excuse me, Captain, I mean Wow, I mean fuckin' A, I mean I think I better patch you in to the Chief of Naval Operations."

  Admiral Roughead answered the call.

  "I suppose, Captain, if I ask you where you've been, you're going to tell me it's a long story," said Roughead.

  Ashley bit her hand, and managed to let out a respectful chuckle. What she was inclined to do was collapse on the floor in hysterical laughter.

  "Yes, Admiral, it is a long story, and I'm sure I'm going to be telling it to you very soon."

  Roughead said that he wanted her to give him a short explanation for now.

  Ashley knew that if she said they went through a time portal, arrived at the beginning of the Civil War, hung around with Abraham Lincoln, kicked Confederate butt at Bull Run, and all that, he would think she was an insubordinate wise ass.

  "We encountered a very strange sea anomaly off Charleston Harbor, Admiral, which affected our navigation and communications ability," Ashley said.

  "But just tell me how you could have disappeared from our communications, radar and satellite systems," said Roughead.

  "Sir," said Ashley, "I don't have an answer for that. We will need to do a lot more investigating." Ashley knew that she had just told the Admiral the absolute truth. She did not have the foggiest idea how a wormhole works. He seemed mollified by her answer, if only temporarily.

  "Admiral, as you know we're scheduled to be in Charleston Harbor the day after tomorrow, after which we are to deploy to the Persian Gulf for six months. If I may, Sir, I recommend that we return to the California's homeport in Norfolk."

  "Captain," said Roughead, "the thought of deploying a ship that disappeared for no reason is just not on my radar screen. Yes, set your course for Norfolk. Future deployments are on hold."

  Chapter 97

  As soon as Ashley got off the phone with Admiral Roughead, she walked quickly to her office to meet with Father Rick and Jack. The three of them huddled around Ashley's computer screen.

  "Destination, Wikipedia," said Father Rick.

  They were nervous, armpit moistening nervous. They had just spent four months in another century and actively intervened in the Civil War. They all had a list of items they wanted to look up.

  Father Rick typed in "USS California." There was the standard Wikipedia history of the California. Date of launch, gross tonnage, length, weapons. The article mentioned that Ashley is the current captain. Nothing about disappearing on April 10, 2013.
"They probably haven't updated the article yet," Said Father Rick.

  "Put in 'Battle of Bull Run,' " said Jack. Father Rick typed it in. Some of the familiar history of the historic battle was there, the problem of inexperienced troops and officers. But then came a an amazing change. The article discussed the missile attack, indicating that it probably came from the Gray Ship, the mysterious USS California. Instead of the old entry that Father Rick remembered, the article then summarized and concluded with the words, "The Battle of Bull Run, or First Manassas as it was called in the South, was a resounding Union victory, and hastened a quick ending to the Civil War.

  "Try Gray Ship and Gray Ships." said Ashley. He entered the terms. Pages of entries on various historical websites, besides Wikipedia, discussed the Gray Ships, and how it was the greatest example of PsyOps, or psychological operations, in the history of warfare. One article concluded that there was only one Gray Ship, and that was the USS California.

  "I have to talk to the crew," Ashley said as she stood up.

  "I have a special project for you guys for the next few hours," Ashley said. "I don't expect you to write a History of the World from April, 1861, but it would be great for the entire crew if you could summarize the parts of history that have changed from what we know it to be. We made it back to 2013, but it's a different 2013."

  Chapter 98

  The boatswain's pipe got everyone's attention, as it was designed to do. "Attention all hands, attention all hands. Stand by for Captain Ashley Patterson. The Captain will be on both TV and loudspeaker."

  "Good afternoon everyone," said Ashley.

  "The last time I spoke to you I said we were going home. Well, I guess I got that right." Those who still had voices screamed and cheered. She then announced that their visit to Charleston had been cancelled as well as their deployment to the Persian Gulf. She said they would tie up to the pier in Norfolk at 0800 the next morning, and that the word had been put out to their families. More cheers.